(diaryland) November 20, 2003 - 11:16 p.m.

I've got this phobia thing. It's a phobia about lightning, thunder and other storm-related objects. If I'm caught in a storm, I get all short of breath and start sprinting from building to building, cowering in doorways and shit. I get scared I'll die.

The worst thing is when I tell people about my phobia, and then they say, "Oh, I love lightning. It's the best." People always say that. I'm like, sure lightning is fancy, but don't be loving it all up in my face.

But anyway, I always thought that if I could run to my car and get safely tucked away inside, the lightning couldn't get me. Cars are safe, I thought. Cars are a capsule of comfiness inside storminess.

But then, two people who shall remain nameless spoiled this little fantasy I had. They said that lightning, if it struck my car, could still get me, especially if I had the aerial up. They said that the only way I could be safe was to take my hands and feet off the steering wheel and pedals and stuff.

I said, "What if you're speeding down the freeway and you can't take your hands and feet off your bits of car straight away?"

I thought that was a pertinent question.

Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was speeding down the freeway in a thunderstorm. And I thought, damn. My aerial is up.

All the way home, I was scared out of my brain, but I'm safe now.

However, my comfy little car theory has been spoiled forever.

I wish I was still ignorant about that.

I'm going to go listen to Elliot Smith in my little bed, which is probably not the best bedtime music right about mow.